


After Winter, There Comes Spring

by Ysilme



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Budding Romance, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Imladris, Injury Recovery, M/M, My Slashy Valentine, Third Age, Worldbuilding, aftermath of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9694172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysilme/pseuds/Ysilme
Summary: Glorfindel wants to fulfil his vow to protect Elrond’s line, but this is not as easy as it seems when Elrond struggles with adapting to the changes after the War of the Last Alliance.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neiroel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neiroel/gifts).



> Happy Valentine, Neiroel!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of transformative fiction based on JRR Tolkien’s creation, done purely for enjoyment. No infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
>  **Notes:** My most heartfelt thanks to curiouswombat, keiliss and lordhellebore for idea bouncing, hand-holding and for answering my endless questions, and to curiouswombat for beta reading. This story would not have come to life without you! All remaining mistakes are my own.

o-o-o-o-o

Snow was falling in soft flakes, covering everything with a layer of pristine white. Now, at the end of winter, this was a welcome sight, when all that remained of the season’s earlier beauty were dirtied heaps of shovelled snow, lining paths of muddy slush criss-crossing the courtyard. Glorfindel picked his way carefully around the worst puddles, mindful of his polished boots and clean trousers as he was about to meet lord Elrond for his daily report. Not that his lord was likely to pay any heed to the captain’s apparel, as Imladris was much more relaxed about such matters than Glorfindel’s former home, Gondolin. But Glorfindel would rather err on the side formality, still not feeling entirely familiar with the customs of the Hidden Valley.  
  
Turning a corner, Glorfindel was passing below the porch of the laundry when something heavy dropped onto his shoulder from above. He started, and then laughed, reaching up to pet the cat who was now rubbing his head against Glorfindel’s.  
“Boron, you rascal! You gave me quite a scare. Are you begging a ride to avoid the snow?”  
Soft purring and a gentle bite into his hand was the answer, and Glorfindel continued, steadying the small shape with one hand while keeping his rolled-up parchments out of the reach of inquisitive paws with the other. The cats of Imladris had been somewhat of a novelty, being more present and better-tolerated everywhere than Glorfindel was accustomed to, and perhaps for this reason, also more trustful.  
  
Boron stayed on his shoulder until Glorfindel reached the door to Elrond’s study in the main house. There, he jumped down and vanished through a small flap set into the opposite door. Amused by the antics of his feline companion, Glorfindel brushed off his shoulders and tugged his coat straight before knocking and entering - another custom Glorfindel still was uneasy with, no matter that he was the commander of Imladris’ military forces: in Gondolin, entering a superior’s office without prompting had been inconceivable.  
  
“Good morning, my lord.”  
  
“Good morning, captain.”  
  
To Glorfindel’s surprise, Elrond was not at his desk, but resting on a chaise longue with his legs up and a cushion under his right knee. Even more surprising was the sight of him in his shirt sleeves, as Glorfindel could not remember ever before having seen his lord without over-garments, be it formal robes or a long coat. He seemed surprisingly vulnerable, clad only in trousers, tunic and waistcoat.  
  
“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Glorfindel approached with a worried frown.  
  
Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It is nothing, just an old nuisance that plagues me from time to time. But you have not come to hear about my ailments, but for your report; what do you have for me?”  
  
Laying the letter he had been reading aside, Elrond heaved himself upright and made his way over to the desk. He walked with a noticeable limp, which did not look to Glorfindel as if it was ‘just a nuisance’. Elrond’s pinched features were hard to miss, and he looked tired. But as he clearly did not want the subject to be addressed, Glorfindel began with his usual oral overview. While Elrond looked through the lists and guard post logs, Glorfindel allowed his mind to wander back to Elrond’s ‘nuisance’, wondering what had happened. He had seemed perfectly fine the evening before, and Glorfindel could not remember having ever noticed something amiss with his lord. But then again, it was not as if Glorfindel really knew Elrond well.  
  
About twelve years ago, Glorfindel had found himself released from Lord Námo’s halls, brought before the Valar’s council, and sent back to Middle-earth in quick succession. Before he knew it he was following an unknown-to-him High king, one Gil-galad of Lindon, across the country to war with an enemy who was unpleasantly familiar. Glorfindel had been given the order to fulfil his erstwhile vow of protecting the descendants of his former king, and therefore had expected to become a personal guard or such of one or several of these descendants, or serve at their side. Upon their arrival at the Lindon stronghold of Imladris, at the eastern border of the realm, Glorfindel finally met the sole survivor of the line of king Turgon: Elrond Half-elven, the grandson of Idril, Turgon’s daughter. Finding this Elrond as the lord of the did not come as a surprise. But Glorfindel had not expected to be left behind, when, a few weeks later, the same lord set out with his king and all the forces Lindon, Imladris and the Men who had joined the Last Alliance could muster. Instead, Glorfindel had been appointed military commander of the stronghold, tasked with guarding a peaceful valley instead of fulfilling his vow. At least he did serve his lord in this function. But the lord remained a stranger to him, and when Elrond finally returned after the long years of war, Glorfindel found himself in an awkward situation. Elrond had come back to the home he had founded and shaped for half of an age, but due to the demands of war, this home had changed considerably. Now it was Glorfindel who was more familiar with the daily running of it, he who had been a complete stranger to this time and place when they had first met. During the past few months, they had learned to work well together, but it was not an easy or comfortable relationship. Glorfindel sometimes felt a bit ill at ease with Elrond, as they only ever met formally at meals and for meetings. Elrond had never been anything but friendly and open in their dealings with the day-to-day running of the settlement, but his personal manner remained remote and grave.  
  
“Captain, I see you have changed the rosters covering the downriver guard posts.” Elrond’s clear voice interrupted his musings.  
  
Glorfindel threw a glance on the parchment. “Yes, we needed to make a few adjustments, considering the changes in the available guards. There is quite a number of convalescents capable of guard duty by now, but not on a full schedule. With these changes, it is possible to pair a fully able guard with two or more convalescents while maintaining an uninterrupted schedule.”  
  
Elrond nodded. “I see. Good thinking, captain! It is important to include also those with diminished capacities. This is setting an excellent example.”  
  
He looked up with a smile of such genuine kindness that Glorfindel could not help but stare at him. “Thank you. I am just doing my duty in dispersing the necessary tasks as fairly as possible,” he managed to say.  
  
“Maybe, but I do not appreciate your work any less for it, captain.” Elrond leaned back, looking at Glorfindel as if he was seeing him for the first time. He sighed.  
“Captain, I have been remiss in my duties as lord. I fear I have never taken the time to get to know you properly. I do not even remember if I gave you a proper welcome when you first arrived. It was a chaotic time, why, it still is!” He chuckled ruefully.  
  
Glorfindel cleared his throat, pleased but also perplexed by the sudden change of Elrond’s demeanour, which mirrored his own musings of earlier. “It does not matter, my lord. Your people made me welcome, and it was easy finding my place. Considering how little I knew about everything when I arrived, I might have easily been a liability. At least here, I could be of use.”  
  
“More than useful. I know I have to thank you for the uninterrupted protection Imladris has seen, which had allowed it to become the sanctuary it is today. For this, I will forever be grateful. Do not think I would not have counted myself lucky to have a warrior of your renown at my side in battle, Glorfindel. But back then, all we knew was that you had been reborn but a few weeks before. With no previous experience, we did not know what you had kept from your previous life. Did you still possess your old abilities and cunning? Did you still have the strength of arm, the endurance for battle? There simply was no time to find out, with the king pressing so hard to move on. So I left you here. I still think it was a wise decision, for now that so many have fallen, your experience and ability is even more important. Coming back, I could not have been more grateful to find things as they were, and find you settled so well as the commander of our defences. I knew, of course, how things were going, from Erestor’s correspondence, but it was something else to see it with my own eyes. Thank you so much, Glorfindel.”  
  
Glorfindel blushed, but he did not care: he understood now that it had been Elrond’s approval he had wanted all the time, and the perceived lack of it had doubtlessly been part of his insecurity. But now that he had it, and even more so, Elrond’s clear appreciation, he felt the tension and awkwardness drain away. It was a wonderful feeling.  
  
“Thank you, my lord. I am happy that I could serve you so well.”  
  
“And I am happy that you will continue to do so. But one other thing, Glorfindel: no ‘my lord’-ing, please. We do not stand on formality in Imladris, as I am sure you have noticed already. My name is Elrond, and I want you to use it.”

o-o-o-o-o

After leaving Elrond, Glorfindel called in at the kitchens, for a snack and some company. The kitchens were the true heart of Imladris and the best place to meet and get to know people, for everybody seemed to stop by at some point. The large table in the corner was never empty, and there was always a pot of tea or a jug of wine and some nibbles to indulge. Today, he found the head cook and the steward, Erestor, discussing supply questions, as well as a familiar black shape at Erestor’s side. Glorfindel slid onto the bench, smiling down at the feline busily kneading the steward’s thigh.  
  
“You really do know where you are comfortable, eh, Boron?”  
  
Erestor chuckled. “That he does. I have met my share of affectionate cats before, but this one is quite special. Are you not, my little pod?”  
  
“Pod? How did he come by that name?” Glorfindel helped himself to a cup of tea and a piece of nut bread spread with butter.  
  
“To be honest, I cannot remember. Probably looked like one when he was tiny. The fluffy kind, you know.” He held his cup out to Glorfindel who obediently refilled it.  
  
“How is it going? Have you met with Elrond?”  
  
“Yes, he approved of the changes I made to the roster, to better include the convalescents.”  
  
“I told you so, remember?” Erestor blew at his tea before taking a sip.  
  
Glorfindel nodded. During the war years, Imladris had changed a lot, becoming a refuge and infirmary for those wounded fit for transport. Erestor, acting as Elrond’s deputy in addition to his steward’s duties, had worked closely together with Glorfindel to secure the smooth running of everyday life with a much reduced workforce. They had become good friends in the process, and Erestor had been a continuous source of good advice to him. Now, after the defeat of Sauron, things were slowly settling back again, although this was a difficult process since so much had changed. Countless losses in battle had left their mark in all elven realms, and even more elves were in the process of relocating to the Blessed Lands, while the death of the High king without a designated heir brought additional political and structural changes. Many considered Elrond as the natural successor to Gil-galad, an heritage Elrond had refused. But even so, for all intents and purposes Elrond was considered these days to be the leader of the remaining elven realms. Not for the first time, Glorfindel wondered how hard it must be for Elrond to carry such a responsibility, one he probably never expected, and to guide them all through these chaotic times in the aftermath of the war.  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Hm? What?” Erestor had been immersed in the lists the cook had left him with.  
  
“About Elrond. Has something happened to him? He was so different today, and I am wondering how that came about.”  
  
Erestor cocked an eyebrow at Glorfindel. “Different in what way?”  
  
“You know how uneasy I often still am around him. He is always so serious and distant, and I never know if he truly approves of my decisions. Today, he openly approved for the first time of a change I made. He has never disputed anything I suggested or had already implemented before, but I never knew if he agreed or was just humouring me as long as nothing adverse happened. Now he also became quite personal, about my arrival and my time here, and thanked me for my services.”  
  
The black cat got up, ambled over to Glorfindel and rubbed his head against Glorfindel’s arm until he started to scratch it between the ears.  
  
“He also smiled at me, Erestor. It is the first time I have seen him smile so warmly, and I cannot help wondering what has happened to him. This is not the Elrond I know. I know he has a twin brother, but I believed that one already dead, instead of switching places.”  
  
Erestor rolled his eyes in mock annoyance at Glorfindel’s feeble joke. “No, there was certainly no switching of places, although you have a point with ‘the Elrond you know’. What you have just experienced is a glimpse of Elrond’s real self, of the man he was before all the changes the war has brought about, and the burdens he now carries. He hides behind politeness and distance, you know. It is not easy for him to adapt to this new role and this new life, and Elrond the leader deals with it by functioning with efficiency and by rising to any demand and any necessity. The man Elrond, with his perfectly normal worries and fears, gets lost among those demands. Only when he feels really at ease with somebody does he allow himself to open up.” Erestor smiled. “It seems that he finally feels comfortable enough also with you, which makes me happy on both his and your behalf. I told Elrond all the time that he does not need to stand on ceremony with you, that you would understand.”  
  
“Understand what?”  
  
“This you have to ask him for yourself, I would rather not disclose such personal things.”  
  
Glorfindel snorted. “Thank you very much for helping me feeling less awkward around Elrond! This does not help at all, better you had not mentioned this!”

Once again, Erestor’s eyebrow rose, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle. “But how would you then know what to ask Elrond?”

o-o-o-o-o


	2. Part Two

o-o-o-o-o

During the following week, Glorfindel had no opportunity to follow up on Erestor’s mysterious hint, and eventually forgot about it. He met Elrond every day for his reports as usual, but although their meetings were now much more familiar and relaxed, they were cut short by necessity; a large group of elves travelling to Valinor had arrived from across the Hithaeglir, demanding their time and attention.  
  
Since the war, many such groups had come to the valley, and while they all intended to move on to Lindon thence to sail west, people usually stayed for a few weeks. Some needed the healer’s attention, for their reason to sail was severe or lasting injury or illness, or the weariness that came with grief and loss. Sometimes, families and kinsmen reunited or searched for each other as, after the defeat of the enemy, many people had been scattered everywhere. Yet others came because they had nobody left and were glad to be welcome in Imladris to stay, not really wanting to sail already, and it always took a few days until all newcomers were settled comfortably.  
  
On the first regular day afterwards, Glorfindel spotted the first snowdrops peeping through the snow. He took it as a good sign, spring was more welcome this year than ever before. A messenger intercepted him just as he entered the main house, handing him a note from Elrond asking to delay their meeting as he had been held up. Glorfindel decided to visit the kitchens first instead, seduced by the deliciously sweet smells coming from that direction. When he entered, two large pans of fresh cinnamon buns proved to be the source, and Glorfindel happily joined the small group at the table.  
  
“Do you work in your office at all?” he asked Erestor, who was comfortably installed with a filled cup, a plate full of crumbs and a pile of parchments in front of him. “No matter at what time I arrive, I find you always already here, or just about to leave.” He helped himself to one of the buns and grinned affectionately at his friend.  
  
One of the scribes whose name Glorfindel did not know snorted. “You are labouring under a misconception, captain: the kitchens ARE his office. The chambers upstairs serve just for keeping the files and ledgers. Nobody bothers looking for him there anyway, as he is never there.”  
  
Erestor raised his eyebrow at the scribe. “Well, you found me, did you not? A steward needs to be familiar with all of his domain, and keep on top of what is going on and the inventory lists everywhere. I am just saving time and effort if I do it on location.”  
  
“At least it saves the attendants a lot of running around if they do not have to go upstairs every time Erestor gets a craving!” Everybody laughed at the cook’s dry remark, Erestor included. The cook poured Glorfindel a cup of sweetened acorn coffee and topped up the empty cups held out to him.  
  
“There is that,” Erestor admitted with a grin. “You are early today, Glorfindel.”  
  
“Yes, Elrond has been held up.”  
  
Erestor frowned. “Oh, is it so bad? I did not realise.”  
  
“Realise what? You are speaking in riddles.”  
  
Erestor was about to reply, but then gave a quick shake with his head while looking at the table at large. “Oh, nothing, I was just thinking aloud. But speaking of saving the attendants an errand, you could take some of the buns up for him, they are his favourite.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Oh, and also take these lists and save me a trek upstairs, will you?”  
  
Glorfindel grinned. “It would be my pleasure. We must not separate you from the cinnamon buns, eh?” Ducking a swat with the parchment roll Erestor was about to hand him, he stole another bun from Erestor’s plate under the laughter of the company at table.  
  
Half a candle mark later, an attendant came to Glorfindel, informing him that lord Elrond was now available. Glorfindel emptied his cup and got up, collecting a plate with fresh buns for their lord, and went upstairs.

o-o-o-o-o

Once again, he found Elrond on his chaise longue with his legs propped up, again as informally dressed as on the previous occasion. This time, though, it looked more serious, as in addition to the cushion under the leg something bulky was wrapped around the knee, and various healing paraphernalia were scattered about. On a small table stood two empty vials and a jar of salve besides one of the small teapots used for healing tisanes, on a stool at Elrond’s feet sat a covered bowl emitting a strong medicinal smell, and a cane was leaning against the chaise. Elrond lay with his eyes closed and had not reacted when the door opened, but his face was too distorted for him to be asleep.  
  
Worried, Glorfindel put the plate and his parchments onto the nearest surface and hurried to Elrond’s side. Had Elrond been injured after all? During the past days, Glorfindel had not missed that Elrond favoured his right leg in the privacy of his study, although in public, nothing seemed amiss. But this had been so minor Glorfindel had thought nothing of it, believing this to be the after-effect of whatever Elrond’s problem had been. To find him so much worse today must mean that something had happened since he had last seen Elrond on the previous evening.  
  
“Elrond! What is the matter?”  
  
Without opening his eyes, Elrond said: “Nothing, I am fine. Just the same nuisance again.”  
  
Glorfindel drew a chair close and sat down, scrutinizing Elrond’s features. He looked tired, with deep lines bracketing his mouth indicating that he must be in pain. “Forgive me, but I do not believe that this is ‘nothing’, or a ‘nuisance’, it looks pretty serious to me. I - I do not want to pry, or to vex you, and if you would rather be left alone, I will not insist. But it pains me to find you so poorly, and if there is anything I can do, I wish you would not hesitate to let me know.”  
  
Slowly, Glorfindel reached for Elrond’s hand, pressing it gently when it was not withdrawn. Elrond heaved a sigh and opened his eyes.  
  
“There is nothing that can be done about it, besides the usual,” Elrond said, gesturing towards the side table. “It is just my knee. A few years back, I strained it badly when I was thrown off a horse, and since then it plagues me from time to time. Rest and some salve usually takes care of it. But I would rather not speak about it any more, please.”  
  
“All right.” Glorfindel nodded, his worries somewhat appeased. “Shall I give my report, then? I have brought the final lists concerning the new arrivals, and there is also a list from Erestor. Oh, and I brought some fresh cinnamon buns.”  
  
Elrond’s features lit up. “Cinnamon buns! Just the thing to improve my day.”  
  
Glorfindel could not help but laugh at this sudden change of Elrond’s mood. Who knew that the promise of a sweet would have such a positive effect! But he frowned when Elrond drew himself more upright and got ready to get up. “Please, do not bother! I will bring everything here.”  
  
Elrond shook his head while he checked the fit of whatever was wrapped around his knee. Glorfindel noticed only now that he wore unusually loose trousers, obviously to accommodate the girth of the bandage.  
  
“No, it is all right, walking a few steps will do me good.”  
  
Getting cautiously to his feet, Elrond reached for the cane, and after testing his balance, made his way over to the desk with careful steps. Glorfindel frowned when he saw how heavily Elrond leaned on the cane, but kept silent. Instead, he fetched the plate and the parchments from the dresser at the door where he had left them and brought them to the desk. Watching how Elrond lowered himself into his chair and placed his bad leg onto a stool placed there for this purpose, Glorfindel could not help but asking:  
  
“Why do you force yourself so much? A seasoned warrior like you certainly is entitled to a few twinges and aches. There is no shame in having fought in battle and having got injured in the process.”  
   
Elrond sighed. “This is no battle injury. I was not wounded at Dagorlad, at least not at the leg. A few scratches and bruises, and a broken collarbone when my horse threw me, but that was all. I was lucky.”  
  
“Then why the secrecy? Why refusing to give attention to whatever it is that causes you pain and gives you problems? Any warrior of mine behaving in this way would get a reprimand from his superior officer or me, and be sent to rest and recuperate.”  
  
Elrond fidgeted around to find a comfortable position. “It is complicated, and not something I usually talk about. But as you are so tenacious, I suppose you need to hear the whole story to understand.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “I tend to forget that you are unfamiliar with my history, as you have missed most of the past age.” His gaze went from Glorfindel to the roll of parchments and then to the plate of buns. “But we must not neglect our duties either. Let me have that account of yours and see the reports, and then I will answer your questions.”  
  
When Glorfindel was finished, Elrond drew the parchments and the plate closer. “Might I trouble you for a cup of tea, please? I will have one of these with Erestor’s lists. He tends to be a bit intent on details.”  
  
Glorfindel, already on his way to Elrond’s teapot, laughed out loud. “I suppose this is why Erestor eats so many snacks while working.” Lifting the teapot, he added: “There is no tea left, shall I make a fresh pot?”  
  
“Yes, please, but of the regular kind. Best take the larger pot, you will find it in the cabinet. The tea is also there in the large glazed jar.”  
  
Glorfindel complied. He filled Elrond’s small kettle with fresh water, hung it over the fire, and then went into the tiny cabinet at the back of the study where Elrond kept a small assortment of healing supplies and herbs for everyday use. The teapot stood on a table, but there were two of the larger glazed jars. They had no inscription, so he opened the lids and sniffed the contents. Both smelled familiar, so he chose the one with a distinctive scent of mint and filled a few spoons into the pot.  
  
“There were two jars,” he said, carrying the teapot back to the fire. “I chose the one with the blue stripes.”  
  
“Ah, yes. This one is the evening blend,” Elrond said. “But it does not matter, it tastes the same in the morning.” He chuckled and took another bite of his bun.  
  
Since Elrond was busy reading, Glorfindel stayed at the fireside to wait for the water to boil, letting his thoughts wander. By now, he was rather curious about Elrond’s tale. It looked as if Elrond was ashamed about his wonky knee, and although Glorfindel knew from experience that some people tended to look down a bit on injuries not acquired in battle, things did not add up. Why should anybody disregard somebody like Elrond with all his renown for something so simple? Elrond had been lord over his domain ever since it had been founded, he was a famed loremaster and healer whom some called the best healer of Middle-earth. He belonged to the Noldor nobility and came from a proud and brave family, no matter that his parents had chosen rather unusual paths for their lives. To Glorfindel's knowledge, Elrond had distinguished himself in all pursuits he had ever endeavoured, also over and over again in battle although the profession of a warrior had never been one of his choice.  
  
The kettle whistled. Glorfindel got up to brew the tea, carrying the teapot over to the table.  
  
“I am nearly done,” Elrond said, “and I fear I need to renew my poultice. Let us have the tea at the fireside.”  
  
“All right.” Glorfindel carried the pot back to the side table, and then went to find a cup for himself while Elrond wrote two notes and then pushed the parchments aside. A sharp hiss brought Glorfindel’s attention back to the desk, where Elrond had got up again, but was leaning with both hands on the desk.  
  
“I should have followed your advice earlier and remained in my chaise longue,” he said with a rueful grimace.  
  
Glorfindel had had enough. It took him only a moment to come around his desk, where he drew away Elrond’s chair and then held out his arms. “Please, allow me.”  
  
Elrond, who kept the weight off his bad leg, looked at him with a sombre look. The silence between them stretched on, and then, finally, Elrond nodded without looking at him. Glorfindel did not miss the faint blush on Elrond’s cheeks when he lifted him up in his arms and carried him swiftly over to the chaise longue. There, he set Elrond down, careful to not jostle the bad leg.  
  
With a mixture of desperation and fury, Elrond hissed: “How can I be lord of a whole people when I cannot even master my own body? How shall I manage what everybody expects me to, frail and fallible as I am?” He banged his fist on the armrest, and then let his head sink back against the backrest, closing his eyes. “Forgive me, Glorfindel, I am not at my best today.”  
  
The quick outburst of temper was somewhat shocking; to Glorfindel, it proved more than anything how miserably Elrond must really be feeling. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “Everybody needs to let off steam now and again, and dealing with pain and limited mobility can tax the bravest among us.” Glorfindel had known enough similar moments himself to not have problems to understand Elrond’s frustration, even if he had never experienced a similar responsibility. He decided to continue with the pragmatic approach, since it seemed to work, despite Elrond’s outbreak. “You wanted to renew your poultice, I think. How do I do this?”  
  
Seeming unwilling at first, Elrond complied after a moment. “Oh well, it would be absurd to refuse after you carried me here, would it not? There is another poultice in the bowl which needs to be exchanged with the one on my knee.” He sat up, starting to draw up the trouser leg of his bad leg, but Glorfindel gently pushed his hands away.  
  
“Let me,” he said with a wink in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I might be just about able to manage.”  
  
It worked, for Elrond laughed and allowed Glorfindel to push up the trouser leg and undo the bandage with the old poultice. Replacing this, he wanted to bandage the leg again, but Elrond declined.  
  
“No, leave it off, just put that towel over it so my trousers will not get wet. I had better replace this a few more times yet.”  
  
“All right.” Instead, Glorfindel poured the tea and brought the plate with the cinnamon buns from the desk. He accepted one as well, and for a while, they were both busy enjoying the delicious pastry and their tea.  
  
“I hope your knee will soon be healed, with the poultices and everything,” Glorfindel remarked.  
  
“So do I. It takes longer to heal each time, though. The other day, when you saw me resting, I had twisted my leg with a clumsy movement earlier. It healed well enough, albeit slower than I had hoped, and was nearly well. It was just my luck to slip on a patch of slush in the courtyard this morning. I fell and twisted my knee again so badly I feared something was torn or broken. Thankfully it is just a sprain again, but it needs to heal all the same, of course.”  
  
“I hope it will be better soon,” Glorfindel said.  
  
Elrond had finished the last bun on the plate and set down his cup. “So, about my history. You know, of course, that am half-elven,” he began.  
  
Glorfindel nodded. “So was Eärendil.”  
  
“My father was but seven years old when Gondolin fell, and maybe he did not experience the same consequences of our heritage as I do,” Elrond said. “You might perhaps also know that half-elves are given the choice of belonging to either Men or Elves. Obviously, I chose the latter, other than my brother Elros. Do you know about him, by the way?”  
  
“Not much, only that he was the first king of the Numénoreans. Perhaps you could also tell me about him another time.”  
  
Elrond smiled. “It will be my pleasure. Well, as I chose to belong to the elves, I share the life-span and many other characteristics of your people. Some differences remained, though, mainly in the working of hröa and fëa, and I am much more susceptible to the demands of the body than any true elf.”  
  
Glorfindel frowned. “What does that mean? I am not sure I understand.”  
  
“I tire more easily, need more food and sleep, and my hearing and sight is not as keen as that of most elves,” Elrond explained, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “Moreover, I heal much slower, which is why something like a twisted knee might ask for all this ado, while any other elf would be fine with some salve and a day of rest, if at all.” He gestured towards the pots and vials and his elevated knee.  
  
“I see. I can imagine that this might be inconvenient at times. But I still do not understand why you prefer to hide your - your differences. It is not as if you could change them, or as if you are responsible for your heritage.”  
  
Elrond sighed. “No, certainly not. But things are not so easy. My heritage has put me at a disadvantage often enough, and more than once I have been disregarded because of it. As far as I know, it all goes back to my youth when I came to the court in Lindon. You know perhaps that my brother and I were abducted by the sons of Fëanor - Maglor and Maedhros - as children in Sirion, and afterwards became their fosterlings. When we came to Lindon, many begrudged us the social standing we had as the High king’s kinsmen, and finding fault with anything one of us did became a frequent occurrence. We both learned quickly to hide our differences from full-blooded elves, and to blend in as well as possible. Later, Gil-galad sent me to Eregion to lead his army, but I was still young and too inexperienced for the task, and as such, under especially close scrutiny by the seasoned warriors and experienced officers. They knew well enough that I was not a warrior by choice, but by necessity, and not appointed as the king’s herald for my military merits but for our kinship. You can imagine that the need for unusual care and consideration for an injury which would be minor at best for everybody else is not exactly conductive to gaining the respect of these men.”  
  
Glorfindel nodded in sympathy. “Yes, indeed.”  
  
Elrond paused while Glorfindel poured more tea and took a few sips before continuing. “Over time, I got so used to ignoring discomfort and pain and anything that did not need stitches or a splint, that it became second nature. I must not seem weak in front of people, now even more than ever before. I can do this, I have done so for the longest time, but it comes as a price, you know. There are times when I am close to desperation and do not know where to find the strength to be a leader and guide our people through these times. I wish – no.” He took his cup in both hands, staring down into the thin tendril of steam rising up.  
  
Glorfindel felt deeply honoured that Elrond would trust him with this knowledge, as well as with his worry and grief, as he had shown earlier. He looked Elrond over. He looked exhausted, but somewhat differently than earlier; not now because of his leg and general weariness, but for deeper, more severe reasons.  
  
As if sensing Glorfindel’s scrutiny, Elrond looked up again. “How shall I manage, Glorfindel? Where can I find the strength to lead them, to care for them all, when my heart is so weary? It is not only my own deficiencies, but also the loss of so many. I grieve so for what we have lost, for the people who have gone, and I feel such a poor choice for their lord. Sometimes it feels as if I am not strong enough for all of it.”  
  
“Oh Elrond.” Glorfindel hesitated no longer, but went over to Elrond, taking him in his arms. It felt odd doing this, he was usually not such a demonstrative person. He strongly suspected that Elrond was neither, too, but somehow, it just felt right, and he happily gave in into the special feeling of tenderness he suddenly felt for this strange and wonderful man, who gave no resistance to his embrace, but accepted it gladly and without reserve. Perhaps he could give Elrond some of the strength Elrond needed, Glorfindel thought. He certainly wanted to.  
  
“Thank you,” Elrond eventually said, speaking so softly that Glorfindel had difficulties understanding it. “This was just what I needed. Thank you for being here for me, and for just being yourself.”  
  
This time, it was Elrond who initiated the embrace. 

_finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Neiroel for My Slashy Valentine 2017 for the following prompt:  
>  _Elrond/Glorfindel, with the story elements Hurt/comfort, Elrond being comforted by Glorfindel. A fight or injury maybe? Make it cute, heart warming but also angsty please._


End file.
